My brother went through a divorce. He stayed with my parents until he was able to get back on his feet. He bought a nice little house in the burbs. My brother is no nonsense kind of guy, and has been in law enforcement for about 20 years now. About a week after he purchased this house, my mother called me with some concern. She asked me if I would go over and spend the weekend at my bro's new house. She said that my bro was again staying the night at my parents. He would go to his new home during the day to do some work on the house, then come to my parents in the evening and spend the night. When my folks asked him if there was a problem, he said that he didn't want to talk about it.
I called my bro and told him I would be at his house Sat morning to spend a few nights, and help him with his kitchen renovations. He shot me down, but I insisted. So Saturday came and I went to the new house. I walked around the house to check out the yard, and noticed the basement windows had bars on them, which I thought a little odd, as it was a very nice neighborhood. Upon entering the home, I also noticed a new looking dead-bolt lock on the door that leads down to the basement. When I asked my bro about this, he said he had installed the lock himself, and quickly changed the subject.
My bro seemed kind of distant, and really not himself. We got to work on the kitchen floor. My bro cut away at the grout, as I removed the old tiles. My bro asked me to stack the tiles in the basement, as he would eventually have a dumpster brought in before replacing the old siding on the house. After removing all the old tiles, I decided to take a 10/15 minute ride to a local pub to buy some beer for the night. My bro wanted to take the 20 minute drive to our parents to grab some tools we would need, and food mom had made us.
I returned from the pub and headed for the basement to stack the beer in a small fridge we had set up down there. That is when I saw something that almost caused me to drop our beer on the stairs. The kitchen tiles I had stacked in a pile down there, was laid out on the basement floor, with the pattern almost identical to what it had been in the kitchen. I obviously figured my brother turned around in his truck, came back and did this, somehow. In the 20 min's I had been gone, I thought, there is no way he could have the time to match these tiles up to complete the pattern. I became very concerned for my bro, thinking the guy has really lost it. Why would he come back and do this, and where was he now?
I quickly called my parents house. My mom picked up the phone and said, yes, he was there, and just left. What is the problem? "No problem mom, just checking to make sure he made it there ok." Now I was in a bit of a panic. If my bro was there at my folks, no way he could have done this. I raced around the house checking every window, under every bed and closet. Everything was locked up tight, no one in the house. When my bro came back, I took him down the basement and showed him the tiles. "Did you do that?" he asked me. "No, I didn't do that, I thought you did." A look of worry crossed his face, and he began to tell me why he had been sleeping at our parent's house.
He said every night, he hears footsteps going up and down the basement stairs, almost pacing. When the footsteps started pacing around the kitchen and living room, he had enough. Now, at this point I was convinced someone was playing games at my bro's expense. I didn't believe in the paranormal, and thought someone was harassing my bro. So, we cleaned up our work area, sat down with some beers, and watched a Penn State game. Later that night, we went to bed. Only two minutes after I lay down, I heard footsteps coming up the basement stairs. No way had someone got in that basement from outside. No way! I listened as the footsteps went up the wood stairs and back down, several times. I was too scared to get up at this point. Now the footsteps were coming up, but this time they didn't stop and turn around at the top of the stairs. They went right through the basement doors, and started into the living room. They went around the living room and through the kitchen and started through the hallway, past my brother's bedroom door, stopped at my door. My heart was racing at this point.
The footsteps turned around and headed back down the hall. This is when I heard this loud groan. Like someone was very upset. The footsteps went right through the basement door again, and down the stairs. I jumped out of bed and opened my door. There was my brother peeking out his door, looking at me in freight. The footsteps stopped at the bottom of the basement stairs. I ran over to the kitchen, and grabbed a flashlight and hammer. Heading back towards the basement door, my brother is bouncing out of his room and putting sweatpants on at the same time, yelling to me, "Let's go! What are you doing?" Now, I'm scared, but still skeptical. It hadn't really registered at this point, that whatever was walking around, was able to walk right through the basement door. Thinking this could be a person, the one messing with my brother; I turned the dead bolt lock on the basement door, and open it. Shining a very weak flashlight down the stairs, the only thing I can see was a bunch of dust kicked up. I heard this loud thud, as if someone jumped on the bottom step, that's when I slammed the door closed, turned the lock and ran out the back door, behind my brother.
We ran a couple blocks to a convenient store to call out dad. There I was the middle of October, in boxer shorts and a T-shirt. Our father picked us up soon after; demanding to know what is going on. I told him some sort of wild animal got into the house, and we beat it out of there. He shook his head, clearly not believing the story. My brother sat in the back seat and remained quiet during the ride to our folk's house.
The next morning, while my brother was in the shower, I told our parents everything. My mom was very worried, and dad didn't believe it. So, me and my bro went back to his house with dad driving us. We all went into the house and looked around. Nothing was out of place. I showed dad the tiles in the basement, to which he didn't say anything. We gathered all of our tools, checked to make sure everything was locked up, and left.
My brother put the house back on the market soon after. He now rents an apartment, and refuses to buy another house. This was exactly a year ago, and my bro still isn't himself. He won't talk about it. I'm glad he decided not to stay, as he has young kids that shouldn't be exposed to this haunting.
Any suggestions, that might help my brother snap back into his old self, would be appreciated.
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